


Star-Seeker

by Findarato



Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 03:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11152905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findarato/pseuds/Findarato
Summary: Lose sight of everything, and you have to live by faith—and stars.





	Star-Seeker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wildandflowering](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildandflowering/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Messiah Project  
>  **Spoilers:** Messiah novel, Dou, Hisui  
>  **Warnings:** stuff you expect in Messiah
> 
> Messiah novel info is thanks to Jelle. Many thanks to Kira as well for Messiah info and the random questions I had.
> 
> This is written for Rose and is basically a month-late present for her birthday. THERE ARE A MILLION METAPHORS and I basically abused science terms and star stuff in this whole thing aha...

**_Star-Seeker_ **

_"_ _There were stars," he said. "They burned my eyes."_

\- **The Book Thief**

_'_ _Dad. This is a magical tube, isn't it.'_

'That's right, it's a magical tube.'

Eridanus. Gemino. Ursa Major. Cassiopeia.

Men made analogies of stars and heavenly bodies since the beginning of time, probably since cave paintings and the earliest of writings. And why not, seeing how the sky didn't change. People worshipped what was up in the skies, and even after man was capable of going up there, there's still so much vastness. So much in the unknown. Science is also a form of worship. It's perfect for literature and prose. Romantic, too.

Stars have always fascinated Eiri. He memorised their names and their places, and on a good, clear night, he doesn't even need a telescope. It's as if the lines were always there, as bright as the specks of light, to connect them into shapes. Some of the names don't make sense, like when he looks at Orion, it looks more like an hourglass and a warrior. There's too many crosses (anything could be a cross, it's just four dotes), and, let's be honest—only the Big Dipper actually looks like what it has been named after. The only thing you can trust, because it led to the most important start to humankind. Hokkyokusei, the North Star, Polaris—all the names for an unmoving star. It's not as if it's eternal; stars had long lives but they would eventually expire as well. But at least the North Star seems permanent, for now. It's like how the Greeks said Atlas held the earth up. Humans sure did come up with interesting stories.

Was it the scientific, or mythical, that captured his attention? He's tried to recall, and his earliest memory were the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, hand-painted by his father, and he learned to count by them. Or maybe it was the fireworks during his fifth birthday that drew his attention skywards, to the pinpricks of lights that stayed even after the glow of the fireworks burned out. Definitely, by the time he received the telescope for Christmas, he knew he was a star-seeker.

(he likes that way that sounds. It's cooler than "astronomer" or even "star-gazer")

Even after the first tragedy of his life, he sought for them. In a fever-dream he pictures setting them on fire and watching them rain down, but instead of hot, they were cold. They frosted over and he imagines himself buried in starlight and stardust, sprinkling over him. That makes no sense, because stars are, even the cold dwarf ones, are still hot. Melt the skin off of him as well as his muscles and bones.

That's the kind of funeral he wants, if he ever gets it.

Except Eiri lived. His life still burned in him. He lay in an alley, face up and limbs akimbo. He counted the lights until the faded into the grey of morning and split into reds and blues and yellows. They lit up the inside of his eyelids when he finally closed them, and he imagines they were still with him when he got shuffled into a cold room and was treated. He doesn't care that scientists said that stars were hot—to him, they were cold. They pushed through the heat in his body, through the flames and pain, and they were colder than the bed he lay on or the water splashed in his face. They asked him his name, and he didn't give it. His family, they were gone. They were among the stars now. He will find nameless or unimportant stars and call them by the names of his father, mother, and sister.

He could do no wrong by the stars, and they could do no wrong to him. All stories and legends and myths had one thing in common—trust in the stars, and seek them to find your way. Lose sight of everything, and you have to live by faith—and stars.

**.**

_'_ _Suregi.'_

By duress of the mafia that picked him up, he picked up a gun when he was eleven. They first taught him with a handgun, then a machine gun, and finally a sniper rifle. The man who taught him had picked him up, tucked the stock against his shoulder, directed his chin and eyes, and squeezed the trigger for him. The target had been three thousand meters away. It had been loud and left a bruise, but he had been fascinated.

The pockmarks on paper were like stars, distant and only fully visible through the scope. After they deemed him trained enough to leave him alone, he culls boredom by shooting holes in the shape of constellations. Leo, Andromeda, Volpecula, Sagittarius, Mensa…the circles of the target papers were perfect for laying out all the positions. He gets scolded for wasting bullets, but he always makes up for it by the number of people he kills.

Killing people though, it's more like an asteroid or meteorite collision—instantaneous, loud, and solitary, followed by death. Or a star exploding into pieces, becoming a black hole or nothingness. Burnt out.

Otherwise, he had plenty of time to himself. Snipers needed patience, coupled by awareness. But when he's not staring at people, he sometimes aims the scope up at the sky. It's a poor magnifier for the stars, and even the cheap telescope he used to have was better than this. However, beggars can't be choosers. Stars are his companions, and after he's exhausted his knowledge, he starts naming his own. There was Eight Point Rock, Onigiri, Ebisu's Beard, Airship, Coffee Cup…he traces them out with his eyes. Sometimes he's up long enough for the meteor showers, and though he counts them, he doesn't wish on them.

Wishes are for kids and dreamers. He's just a seeker. He follows the trails the meteors make, and imagines he's sitting on them and being led to distant worlds. A world where his family isn't dead. A world where he has a normal life, and gets to study stars.

What did stars taste like, he's wondered. Like gunpowder, stinging his nose in the aftermath of a shot? Or like rain, pouring onto him and trailing down his face and scope, with a hint of acid bitterness? Or maybe it's like candy, crunchy and liquefying, overly sweet. People liked giving Eiri candy because they thought he was younger than he looked, and he usually throws it all out. He can't help it if he doesn't grow exactly tall, or that his face is baby-round and smooth. Even after he turned sixteen and sneaked a few shots of whiskey, they still ruffled his hair and laughed (he didn't throw up, but the hangover headache makes him never want to have whiskey ever again). It's ironic, because with one hand they gave him chocolate, and with the other hand they gave him bullets.

He picks up a habit of writing on the bullet cases. It doesn't affect his aim or the projectile movement, so he might as well do it, right? It keeps him sane. It goes back to exploding stars, their demise of people, and how he buries them. A constellation for every person, every unnamed guard or other assassin. Gang members, prostitutes, the corrupt rich—anyone. He lost track of their actual names, so he can only honour them like this. He finally does buy a new book so he can memorise more names out of it, reading it by a sole light bulb or by the glow of a flashlight when he's on a job. More names, more bullets, more death.

Adulthood welcomes him with more chances to kill. Despite the nickname that sticks, he's very trusted, very reliable. It's not a perfect way of life but it keeps food in him and offers a place to sleep. Sometimes he still dreams of fire. Those nights, he gets up and climbs to the highest point possible to look at the stars, repeating them over and over until he sleeps.

They were once again a point of comfort when Eiri's life is disrupted again. Violence done against the boss and he got caught up in it. He killed them all and earned five scars. He had thought he would die, actually. But maybe his stars were lucky, maybe the fact he respected the stars, they saved them. They once again shielded him, protected him, and this time, he wakes up to a world of white and blue.

It's not a place for stars to exist.

**.**

_'_ _Why do I have to look after you even in my dreams?'_

_'_ _Isn't that okay? That's what being a Messiah is all about.'_

The uniform is tailored. Life in the Church is maybe just a step up from the gang life; he memorises the rules and as long as he follows orders and kills the right people, it's fine. Not much fazes him and he accepted at this point that he's very hard to kill, making him very useful.

But did they have to pair him with such an exasperating person? The candy, the juiceboxes, the alarms…it's a disruption. If he believed in horoscopes, then he would definitely call him and Haku incompatible. Opposites, so distant like one end of the universe to the other. Haku sometimes seems to live in his own head, and when he bothers to leave it, he's annoying Eiri with his various habits. If not the professionalism demanded to their jobs, Eiri would've asked for another Messiah. He jokes about it too.

However, in the rare moments they're not arguing or not busy, Haku steals his books and reads them, and he sometimes talks to Eiri about stars. Recites random science facts; neither of them completed their education, but between the two of them, they were complete. Eiri was good with science and numbers, Haku with history and literature. They had practice Russian and English together, and Eiri sometimes is in the mood to teach the Korean he picked up with the gang. It's not all bickering. It's just that Haku has a way of making him forget how old he is, and how old they both have to act.

When push comes to shove, Haku isn't all that bad. They're just a little tired of life. Tired of tragedy, tired of caring. The world shrinks and he actually looks at the stars less, because he's looking at Haku more. They said people are made of the same stuff as stardust, so he's not given up on the stars. It's just that Haku has become more, and has become as important as the North Star.

After the incident with Higayama, it wasn't a huge revelation or change in their characters. Haku still didn't bother to clean up, and Eiri still yells at him. He still stomps his feet and screams in the morning and Haku grins that same infuriating grin. But never does Eiri think again that he wants a different person in his life, or that they're incompatible. Fuck horoscopes; they followed their own stars and they'd guide themselves.

Somewhere, someplace, sometime, he wakes up and his first thought is Haku. Is Haku by his side, or away on a separate mission? Is Haku still asleep, or is he awake, watching Eiri? It's like Haku is the sun and Eiri revolves around him, or maybe they're binary stars, rotating each other.

…actually, he might just be a planet, and Haku is the very persistent moon that circles him. Around and around, never leaving, never slowing. Always steady.

He likes steady.

Graduation nearly kills both of them, and the state it leaves them is pretty bad. He doesn't even need a psych to tell him that; they grew up abnormally and were raised as abnormal adults, and they might as well be aliens in the world of normal people. When was the last time he went to the movies, or the zoo? The Church did prepare them with scenarios and roles, but when he and Haku had that rare moment of getting on a train or being in a city, it feels like there's a flow they're going against, people bumping into them and going about their lives. They don't worry about being targeted or killing people, they're just thinking about what's for dinner and if they picked their kid up. It's a different galaxy, and like aliens, they can't live in it.

Their world is made up of guns, computers, death, cold, and each other. Even if it were miles and miles of distance. When Eiri is stuck in Russia, he thinks of Haku. When they're plying him for information in various ways, he repeats Haku's name. When everything hurts and it's bitterly cold and his fingers are numb, Haku is there. No more stars, for he's found the one. The only one that mattered. The one that he seeks, and the one that seeks him as well. A long time ago, he has imagined the stars being the only ones present at his funeral, raining down and melting him away. But instead, it's just that a solitary one, bursting in and scattering light and candy wrappers, picking him up and lifting him away. He breathes in dust and Haku, and coughs out blood that is dark and wet; in the night it looks to be the same shade as the sky, complete with a shine to it. Maybe they really are made of stardust and space pieces.

And Haku is a part of it. Eiri used to think stars were so far away, but in the presence of his Messiah, he feels like the journey was long since over, and that they're found in each other, together—like a constellation, _complete_.

**_.end._ **

 

**Author's Note:**

> so I would've worked in a joke about dwarf stars and Eiri, but that would've been cruel.


End file.
